


I Feel Too Deeply

by Just_East



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, My Life in a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_East/pseuds/Just_East
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when I write I hear the words in the voices of great spoken word poets.</p><p>Never my own voice.</p><p>This desire to become great by leaving myself behind is perplexing I don’t think I will ever quite understand it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel Too Deeply

I move too fast, I feel too deeply, the feelings are fragile, and I hate nothing more than my own fragility.

Roots are quick to plant. Even quicker to be burned up by simple words that mean no harm..

Nothing frustrates me more than my own fragility and the delicacy of my feelings.

How can something so delicate grow so fast and feel so strong, only to crumble so simply?

How can they survive?

How do I survive?

Maybe I’m melodramatic, but the only feelings that have ever stayed for long have been a heaviness and a burning desire to be someone else.

Sometimes when I write I hear the words in the voices of great spoken word poets.

Never my own voice.

This desire to become great by leaving myself behind is perplexing I don’t think I will ever quite understand it.

The unknown terrifies me more than the anxiety and fear of asking questions.

I’ve always been good at asking questions.

I move too fast, from idea to idea, never settling long on one ideal. My goals are forever changing, and as soon as I feel comfortable with one, it’s gone.

I hate nothing more than my own weakness, my own flaws.

There is nothing more attractive than the confidence that I do not possess. Maybe this is why I seek it in others.

Insecurity feeds my own. Anger makes me scared. Sadness makes me frustrated.

Perfection leaves me breathless and unable to move.

I move too fast, and I know, and I make sure everyone knows.

But I feel too deeply.

But it is such fragile feelings.

I feel the need to keep them within myself. I always say I am open, but in reality I keep my cards close to my heart and I keep my heart hidden under layers of laughter, humor, Aquarius jokes and a sea of distance few can cross. Even fewer actually want to cross that sea.

Only one is keenly aware of that sea, and only because she has crossed it time and time again.

As open as I think I am… My past I will tell you everything, my future, I will dream about with you,

But my present.

I do not allow people to see me negative or sad until I break and need someone to hold me together lest I fall apart and lose all the pieces, because I have never been good at remembering where I’ve left things.

I think a part of my heart left with him to go to California. My belief in true love and foolish ideals.

The desire to be taken care of is still here, but the hope that it could actually happen? He took that out of my country.

I think I sent another part to California to try to protect her while she grows up.

I think I left parts at every high school I’ve been to, with every teacher who has ever cared enough to try to help.

I think I’m barely holding onto a chunk that desperately wants to fly to Georgia to hug her and hear what the hell a Georgia accent sounds like.

I think I leave a piece in every word I write.

I think I left an echo of pain and sadness in the hospital. I think there’s dust of my heart in the notebook I poured my pain into while I was there.

I think my cat is guarding one.

But I’m not sure.

I’ve never been very good at remembering where I’ve left things.

I move too fast and feel too deeply and I can never keep myself all in one place of being.

There’s a chunk of my memory missing from when I was born to when I was eleven years old.

A counselor once told me I was probably better off not knowing.

I’ve never been very good at remembering anything.


End file.
